


30 Minutes

by Somnambulist



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Captain!Charles, Cook!Sean ????, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rogue!Erik, Romance, another round of "let's hurt Charles and make Erik make it better", gay magic pirates, hurt!charles, just what everyone needs more of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 19:05:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4636776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somnambulist/pseuds/Somnambulist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Charles uses his powers to disguise his battle wounds from his crewmates.  But he fails to conceal them from rogue ship-hopper and returning lover, Erik.</p>
            </blockquote>





	30 Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> About the only AUs I can really get into are vampires and pirates, so since this is my first venture into AU-ing anything, I sincerely hope I did it justice. Also, I’m really fudging my limited pirate knowledge here, so I won't be winning any awards from NatGeo for historical accuracy lolol 
> 
> ALSO also, I've read a lot of Cherik stuff, and I KNOW I've seen Erik referring to Charles as "Schatz" before. I can't remember where I first saw it, but I was inspired to follow since this is a pirate fic. So, thanks for letting me borrow your words <3 Enjoy!

Erik had hardly been aboard for 6 minutes before he was tracking down a lone crewman to interrogate.

He found Sean in the kitchen, sorting the week’s supplies while the rest of the crew swabbed the deck above.  Sean was pensive, and cautious, but an astute observer and keen of wit.  Erik narrowed in behind him as he sorted through barrels of potatoes.

“What’s happened to the captain?”

It was a true testament to Sean’s self-control that he didn’t let out a glass-shattering scream in response.  Instead, he nearly jumped out of his skin, nerves as shot as the peeled potato before him.  He snapped around and faced Erik, eyes wide and chest heaving.

“What do you m-mean?” he stammered out, clutching his neck protectively.

Erik shot him an exasperated glance, then snatched a raw potato from the table in front of him and bit into it.  He chewed for a moment before responding.  “What do I mean?  He’s as unsteady as a mast in a typhoon.”

Sean’s expression turned like clockwork from fear to confusion.  “I don’t…know what you’re talking about.”

The answer wasn’t unexpected.  Erik set the spud down and walked towards the storage cupboard, Sean’s eyes following intently.  “What I mean, is he’s got a gimp leg, a banged shoulder, and probably only one lung at this point.  Have you really not noticed?  Not anything?”

Sean shook his head slowly, and Erik sighed.  He motioned Sean over, then walked to the grated deck door above.  The Captain was at the helm just ahead, occasionally obscured by the soles of passerby’s boots. 

“There is far more to our dear Captain than he lets on.  He is a powerful illusionist, but his secrets don’t end at conjuring up spooks for parlor tricks.  I beseech you to look past what your eyes are telling you they see” Erik said, pointing to the Captain as he folded up a map and began moving away from the helm.

Sean’s eyes followed obediently, but it only took moments for him to close them again and shake his head.  “All I see is the Captain heading to the stern.  I see nothing.” 

In one fell swoop, Erik grabbed Sean’s hands and led him swiftly down the narrow hallway leading out of the kitchen and towards the galley stairs, following the Captain’s movements above.  He kept him voice low “Just as Captain can bewitch the mind and enchant false truths, he has all of you under his spell.  Every time you look at him, actually look, do you find your mind turned elsewhere?”

They stopped at the edge of the grate, 20 feet away from the Captain.  Erik pulled Sean in and muttered in a whisper “Look – really look!”

Sean squinted him eyes, and Erik could almost hear the cogs whirring in concentration.  Sure enough, Sean’s eyes focused on the Captain, then flitted off into the empty space beside him.  “I-I’m sorry, I can’t seem to concentrate.  There’s something I should be doing back at the kitchen.”

He turned to go, but Erik grabbed his arm forcefully.  “There is nothing in the kitchen that commands your attention as much as I command it now.  The captain is grievously injured, and you are all _blind_ to it.  Look how his shoulder is hunched, his knee is stiff, and his arm seldom leaves his ribcage.”

Erik grasped Sean’s temples and turned his head towards the Captain, enforcing Sean’s stare.  Sean squirmed in discomfort, his mind trying desperately to convince him that his gaze had to be elsewhere, but Erik’s grip was steadfast.  As the Captain went to greet a crewmember off-scene, Sean’s eyes widened in marvel. 

“I don’t believe it!  He’s limping!  When did that come on?  Did someone hurt the Captain?” he said in a dumbfounded hush.

Erik released him, and stared impatiently.  “I was hoping you could tell me.  When I jumped ships, I heard mention of a battle this old gal was involved in?”

Sean nodded bemusedly.  “Aye, we ran into a Parisian smuggler ship.  They were a real ragtag lot, eager to brawl and clash steel.  They fought recklessly and violently, nothing like the graces Captain has taught us, so we were taken off-guard.  Many of us got sliced and burnt from the stolen ammunition they had just lying about, but we eventually bested them and Captain walked away unharmed.  We even got a good bit of smuggled gunpowder out of the battle.”

Erik nodded.  “I don’t believe the Captain came away as unflinchingly as he let on.  Have you weighed anchor at any other port since?”

Sean shook his head.  “No, Captain says it’s too risky what with Parliament watches being held every evening.  We’ve been adrift for nearly a fortnight now.”

Erik made a noise of indignation.  “Nearly a fortnight?  Are you meaning to tell me the Captain has been dragging about his encumbered limbs for a _fortnight_?”

For the first time since being bombarded, Sean’s eyes flashed displeasure.  “He has been the picture of health until about 2 minutes ago, when you started going on about bloody phantom wounds and gimp legs!  I should be demanding of YOU how he got those injuries within the past half-second!”

“I’ve told you, he has you all bewitched.  He emerged from that battle much the worse for wear, but has enchanted this crew’s mind so that all of their attention is drawn from his physical state.  Ask anyone on this ship, and I guarantee you no one will be able to recollect why the Captain has been wearing the same old coat and trouser since you bested the Parisians.  No one is capable of focusing on his form.  You’re all being tricked.”

Sean gaped, but his stiffened posture melted away.  “I….you’re right.  Bloody hell, my memory can’t recall any actual picture of the captain since after the battle.  It’s all old stock.”

Erik tilted his head in agreement.  “Our Captain is righteous and strong, but he is also very proud.  What he’s chosen to disguise, he disguises out of pride and obstinance.”

Sean gave a single nod.  “What do we do now, then?”

“Stand down and I’ll take care of it” Erik said, turning on his heel and heading for the brig, biding his time with plans and strategies until the sun set and the Captain returned to his quarters.

* * *

 

Night crept over the ocean, and as the evening grew, the deck emptied.  Erik cracked open the door to the lone cabin at the far side of the ship silently, creeping in and tucking it closed behind him.  The captain’s quarters were wide and spacious, cozily decorated with red cushions, deep-wine curtains, and low-hanging lanterns giving off a contented glow.  In the center of the room lay a drawing table, where maps, compasses, and trinkets were sprawled out, and in the corner next to a deep-set bed was an ornate tapestry, decorated with bursting lotus flowers and arcane symbols from somewhere far East.  Erik crept to the table and sank silently into a chair, stretching his boots out and watching the shadow behind the tapestry intently. 

Charles emerged, his dark hair mussed and baggy undershirt hanging loosely off his torso.  In the dim light, the sallowness of his skin gave off an eerie glow.  He gave a knowing smile upon spotting Erik, sending a brush of familiarity across his subconscious.  Despite the sunken cheeks and dark circles, his eyes were soft in the caramel candlelight.

“What treacherous waters lay ahead, Captain?” Erik said in a low voice.

Charles smirked.  “Save the formalities for the trading-men in big coats” he said, cupping his hand above Erik’s knee and trailing it lightly down him shin.  Erik lowered his feet off the table and grabbed Charles’s wrist, wrapping his hand around Charles’s waist and guiding him onto his lap.  Charles sat gingerly, not unnoticed by Erik, and turned the coin Erik always wore around his neck idly with his fingers. 

Erik grabbed his hand once more and traced circles in his palm.  “News befalls me” he purred, “that a certain famed captain is something of a deviant.”

Charles tilted his head innocently and closed his hand around Erik’s finger.  “Tell me, what provokes such _stark_ accusations?”

Erik exhaled in a silent laugh.  “Well, you are clever” – he kissed his hand – “Resourceful” – kissed his wrist – “dreadfully sneaky” – touched his lips to his thumb – “and hiding the remarkably poor state of your physical well-being  from your entire crew” he ended in barely a whisper, his eyes closed and lips brushing against Charles’s hand.

Charles snapped his hand back with a start and stared.  “How did – what…” his eyes darted back and forth in search of the right words.  Every wave of sweetness and charm that was previously emanating off of Charles evaporated into thin air as his mind bolted the doors behind it.

Erik met the intensity of his gaze, but kept his eyes soft and wary.  “I know every track and facet of your being too well, love, to be fooled by Disillusionment.”

Charles sighed, then extracted himself from Erik’s grips and moved towards the porthole window.  “Visible indications of pain is a sign of weakness” he said matter-of-factly.

“So is a refusal to depend on the aid of those you trust” Erik responded, standing gracefully from his chair.  “Your crew is strong of heart and character, Charles.  Why wouldn’t you tell them this?”

Charles shook his head, still transfixed on the sea beyond.  “I am a captain with a crew of fine ladies and honorable men.  I would not insult them by needing care after a dalliance with those who oppose everything we stand for.”

“It is an insult to tend to injuries?  I shudder to think what your sick bay would say to that.”

Charles turned sharply, his eyes cutting through the lantern glow with the start of ire.  “It is not that simple and you know it, Erik.  You of all people I thought would understand.  As captain, I must exempt myself from vulnerability.”

An odd chuckle cut the air.  Charles’s expression dove deeper into ire and narrowed in offense, but Erik’s voice was calm and level “You are many things, Charles, but you are not invincible.  Only the mythical pirates of yore were truly exempt from suffering.  Don’t tell me you base your manifesto off the words of children’s books?”

Charles’ voice rose significantly.  “If your only goal is to add insult to injury, quite literally, then our rapport is done.”

_// I will ask you very kindly to step out and mind the curfew. //_

Erik stepped up to the porthole window and bore down on Charles.  “Tsk, tsk, not even words?  I will raise the Jolly Roger and drive this tub into a colonial port before I take my leave.  I am not going anywhere until you agree to stop for aid, or at least an antiseptic for your _scrapes_ and _knicks_ ” he added scathingly.

Charles swiftly turned to face him and rose to his own fury in seconds.  “How thoroughly _boorish_ of you to antagonize me with threats!  Kindly leave.”

_// Now. //_

Though Erik felt a sharp, unseeable prod to his chest, he stood sentinel.

Charles took one step forward, his voice climbing.  “Why are you being such a villain?”

“Why are you being such a child?” Erik retorted.

“Because it’s bad, Erik!” Charles rang out, the force of his voice causing a shooting pain to his side so strong, Erik flinched at the sudden broadcast.  Charles’ hand answered involuntarily, the rest of his exclamation swallowed by the cushioned room. 

Charles closed his eyes heavily. 

_// It’s….quite bad. //_

Silence sat thickly in the air as the ship creaked in rhythm, and Erik stared at the marred and battered face before him.  Slowly, his hands moved to the hand currently clutching Charles’s ribs in an iron grip, and Erik peeled it away like plaster.

“Talk to me, _Schatz_.  One could hardly consider a blade to the ribs the aftereffects of a mere dalliance.”

Charles stiffened in anticipation of contact to his injuries, but spoke plainly and flatly.  “It was a long sword, just below the lung.  There was a skirmish at the crow’s nest, and I tried to dive out of the way before Alex blew the place to bits with his own brand of ammunition.  I almost made it.”  He lifted his shirt up to reveal a deep, half-healed wound.  “Cracked ankle, bruised knee, and fractured shoulder.  We needed to flee the region before the authorities caught on, so Disillusionment was my best hope at concealment.”

“How is the pain?” Erik asked tentatively, tracing the air around the red and inflamed skin on Charles’s ribs.

“Quite a menace.  I…Hank was keeping the demons at bay with some plant-based concoction he picked up on the coast of Portofino.”

“’Was’?”

“We’re nearly out.  I’ve rationed the doses to further the supplies, but the effects are now so minimal, they’re practically non-existent.  I can take away the pain of others, but I can’t anesthetize my own without compromising my other faculties” he admitted, a sadness lingering on the edge of his words.

Erik moved his hands to Charles’ temples and pressed his lips to his forehead.  Charles sighed and leaned into Erik, his head resting lightly against Erik’s sternum and arms wrapping around his waist instinctively.

“You dove into the depths after me once.  Now that you’re under, I hope you’ll allow me to return the favor.”

Charles gave a muffled laugh into his chest.  “Your companionship has repaid any imaginary debt you believe you hold toward me”

Erik tilted his chin up and kissed him chastely on the mouth.  “I hope at the least, then, you will entertain my company for the remainder of the night” he murmured, to which Charles laughed and gave a mental assent of warmth. 

“So,” Erik said, releasing him, “with Parliament on the watch for rogue ships, what course have you set next?”

“There’s a coastal town off the edge of Spain that rumor says is sympathetic to the cause” Charles replied, limping towards the drawing table.  “Angel got a head start, but the wind is in our favor to head there next.”

The evening past amicably into night, the pair discussing strategy, routes, and exchanging news of anti-mutant policing taking place on land.  Charles spoke fervently, but Erik saved his words so he could observe how the corners of Charles’ mouth twitched reflexively every time he inhaled too quickly, or how he maneuvered his arm so his shoulder would move as little as possible.  As the night crept on, a comfortable silence fell over the two of them, Charles mapping out coordinates and Erik idly reading a lengthy observational essay Hank had written on the various flora found in a jungle he led an expedition into.

Finally, Charles gave a dramatic yawn, touched Erik’s wrist, and flashed images of sleep and comfort.  Erik gave a small smile, and the two headed towards the corner of the room.  As Charles extinguished the lanterns, Erik manipulated the steel candle snuffer to plunge the room into a milky darkness.  Charles climbed in beside Erik and turned to his side, touching Erik’s arm with an affectionate reassurance, and the two fell into slumber.

* * *

 

Erik woke suddenly in the night, his brain swimming in a fugue state and his body feeling like it had been weighed down by cannonballs and dropped into the depths.  He willed his arm to move, but all he could manage was a slight twitch.  A second attempt dropped it clumsily across his stomach, and it was only then that he realized he had been holding his breath.  As he inhaled deeply, daggers shot across his diaphragm, and he gasped at the sudden agony.

Like a mummy emerging from its sarcophagus, he hauled himself up, trying not to panic at the slow burn that roasted his entire chest.  His mind struggled to catch up to his senses, and he wondered if they had been boarded during the night.

But when he finally managed to wrench his eyes open, the room was dark and still.  Erik, now on the threshold of alert and tension, swung his legs over the side of the bed, his flexor muscles protesting as he put weight on his foot, and he stumbled awkwardly into the bed post to keep himself upright.

Movement from the corner of the room caught his eye, and he snapped his head to attention.  Shadows played mischievously across the cabin, but he recognized Charles’ coif standing in ringlets against the moonlight.  The light bounced off of Charles’ eyes, and in an instant they were wide enough to let in all of high tide.

“Erik!  Oh Erik, I’m so sorry!”

In an instant, the pain was gone.  Erik nearly fell once more at the sudden use of his limbs again, but righted himself at once and stared again at Charles, his heart beating in his throat.

“Charles” he commanded into darkness.

Charles remained silent, and Erik swiftly crossed the room to meet him.  He was hunched over against the dresser, his hand gripping his side and his leg supported on a footstool.  He was breathing shallowly and quickly.

“Charles?” Erik tried again.

Charles closed his eyes, and placed his free hand on Erik’s shoulder.

_// Forgive me, my friend, but I cannot bear to make any talk that isn’t absolutely necessary at the moment //_

Erik patted his hand sympathetically.  “What can I do?”

_// Nothing.  It is always worse at night, when everything stiffens during slumber.  I will get through it, as I have many nights past. //_

“Tonight is different.  Tonight you have _me_.”  Erik grabbed Charles’ arm that was still on his shoulder and wrapped it fully around, sliding in to meet Charles but careful not to jostle his bad side.  Charles groaned, but cooperated, and hobbled towards the bed as Erik supported the majority of his weight.  He set him down carefully, cupping his hands around the back of Charles’ neck briefly before moving back to the dresser and opening the drawers with a determined fervor.

“Do you have any more of that plant mixture Hank made?”

_// Top drawer, right side.  There should be three syringes left. //_

Erik hastily grabbed all of them and returned to the bed, readying each one as Charles steadied himself against the headboard.  Occasional prickles of pain shot past Erik, but vanished almost immediately as though Erik himself were watching the strings pull fish out of water.

_// I should reserve the medicine for the daytime, when I need myself at full functionality //_

“You won’t need to worry about that, because at first light I’m marching up to the helm and steering this crate toward the Drogheda Seaport.

_// Drogheda? //_

“It’s half a day’s journey and hosts far more promise than Spain.  There’s a gifted mutant nurse hiding out there.  She’s prodigal with herbs and antiseptics, and will treat her allies well.”

_// But - //_

“ _Drogheda_ ” Erik said firmly, sitting beside Charles and taking his arm gently in his hands.  He stuck the needles in one at a time, and Charles gave a shudder as he felt the medicine pump through his overexerted muscles.  Erik tossed the syringes aside and scooted closer to Charles, his hand wrapped securely around his back as Charles’ head flopped onto his shoulder.

For a moment there was silence.  Erik moved his hand to Charles’ scalp and supported the back of his head, moving his fingers in and out of his hair.  Charles’ fingers dug into Erik’s leg, turning his knuckles white as bone.  His breathing hitched in the quiet, as the ship creaked and the faint sound of waves chattered in the darkness.

“How long does it usually take for this stuff to take effect?” Erik ventured to ask.

_// Half an hour, for maximum potency.  I’ve been waking up early to accommodate its delayed effectiveness //_

“Charles.”  Erik said, and Charles half opened his eyes to glance up into Erik’s. 

Erik stared down heavily, and his pupils reflected smoke and fire.  Erik placed his hand lightly over Charles’ wounded side.  “Let me take this for you.  Just for 30 minutes.”

Charles stared.

_// I would not wish even 30 minutes of my own discomfort upon you, Erik //_

“That’s why you’re not wishing it, I’m _taking_ it.  Bloody mind-readers” he said with a smirk.  When Charles said nothing, he continued.  “I have struck the lobes of men with every kind of metal.  I have fired bullets at those you call innocent.  And I harbor vendettas deeper than the Atlantic for over half the world’s populace.  If you must justify it with that insufferable brain of yours, then you may call it atonement.  But please, Charles, let me take this.”

_/ For you. /_

For a moment Charles was still.  Then he slowly placed his hand over Erik’s heart, and trailed it down his torso, following the length of his abs and ending at the bottom of his ribcage.  His fingers traced each bone, pressing gently at the grooves of skin in-between, and Erik felt the cold tips of Charles’ fingers meet the heat of his abdomen.  Slowly, gradually, Erik felt a pressure, which turned into a sharpness, and slowly blossomed into pain. 

_// I couldn't give everything.  But a glimmer…that I can spare gladly //_

Erik took steadying breaths and closed his eyes, sinking into the bed and pulling Charles down with him.

Charles turned onto his good side, lying face-to-face with Erik.  The hulls of the ship rasped against the water, and moonlight cast angular shadows across Charles’ face.  Erik traced his finger over Charles’ lips, then cupped his cheek softly.  Charles leaned heavily into the touch, letting Erik support the weight of his head. 

Erik intertwined his free hand with Charles’, breathing against the throes of discomfort now wafting over his side.  But his lips twitched with the ghost of a smile.

“What do they say in those silly books?” he said softly.  “‘One for all, and all for one?’”

“I wouldn’t know, love.  I don’t follow the manifestos of children’s books” Charles replied sleepily, squeezing Erik’s hand and closing his eyes as they drifted peacefully into discomfort.

**Author's Note:**

> Looking back on it, I'm only SLIGHTLY disappointed I didn't fit a "yellow-bellied, lily-livered" insult anywhere in here. But regardless, I really love hearing from you all, so if you enjoyed this, it means a lot to drop me a note. Thanks for reading, as always~ xoxo


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